bakerstreet | I'll take that risk

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I'll take that risk

Risky Rendezvous

HOW TO PLAY

Comment: info, preferences, prompts you like, desired roles, etc.
Reply: to others.
RNG: if you'd like. Otherwise, go nuts.

PROMPTS

petplay: All good pets need to be trained. Of course, they naturally want to please master or mistress, so taking to the leash and collar is in their blood. You may want to give them a helping hand, though, and keep those temptations like acting like a human out of their sights.

daddy/baby girl: Or something more gender neutral. Whatever the case, you love taking care of your little one and spoiling them...unless they need punished for being a brat. They may be too young, but you can't help yourself.

medical play: The doctor will see you now.

bondage: Whips and chains excite you. Ropes aren't too bad, either.

religious: Forgive me father, for I have sinned. And now, I'll have to confess it all.

let go: You've got all your shit together in life. In your private life, though, you like to let go and lose yourself - either by being rough and controlling someone else or being controlled.

student/teacher: Young teacher, the subject of school girl fantasies. You know the drill. Somebody's staying after class.

non-con: They say no, but you know they mean yes.

master/servant: Maid or butler uniform optional.

newlyweds: There's nothing like your wedding night.

cheating: Your cheatin' heart may or may not be in the right place.

robbery: Give up all your goods and give up something else, too.

incest: It's all relative.

crossdressing: Girls will be girls and boys will be girls.

police: Ready for a game of good cop, bad cop?

wanton: Oe of you has all the trappings of a slut, with all that ill-repute, and the other has to put them in their "place." Dirty talk, sexy clothing, toys, maybe even glory holes, oh my! The more perverse, the better.

strangers: You'd never do this with someone you just met! Good thing you've really known each other forever.

prostitution: All the naughtiness of an appointment between a prostitute and a John.

nurturing: We know all of you love a mother or father figure.

someone else: Usually, a lover calling out someone else's name is anathema, but now, it's apropos..

RUSSIAN ROULETTE

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ spoilers likely. no 10, 18, or 19 ]

He's long lost sense of time. The mask he wears blocks out any light, and he hears only when she wants him to--which tends to be when she commands and humiliates him. Pup, she calls him, sometimes with affection, sometimes with derision, and he'd caught a glimpse of the giant wolf that walks in her shadows; Loki can never quite decide if it's pride or shame that coils through him to be compared to so powerful a creature.

He's long lost sense of time. How long, since he'd arrived in Asgard? How long, since Hela (not sister, never sister the way Thor is and forever will be brother, not unless she forces it from him as he shakes and begs beneath her touch) had beaten him, chained him, collared him? How long since he'd last seen thor? How long until Thor arrives? Loki had thought he'd already be here, but time is strange when traveling through the portals, he'd knew that, knew it after weeks at the Grandmaster's feet before Thor's arrival shook everything apart. Thor, brother, please; there will always be a part of him that expects his big brother to save the day. It makes Hela laugh.

He's long lost sense of time. Once, he'd tried counting time through the seconds and moments that drag through the darkness behind his blindfold. She'd put a stop to that when she'd bound his limbs and words and spread his legs, his desperate attempts to stay in control easily torn to shreds as she dragged him time and time again to the brink until he begged for her mercy. It's hard to count time when you've lost sense of it.

He waits, now, not knowing if she'll come. His legs are sore but he knows better than to change his position, terror, shame, and arousal warring for dominance within him as the plug (horrid thing, tufted with fur to simulate a tail, of all things) nudges insistently at his prostate with every shift of his weight. It seems, ultimately, she's gotten him to kneel before her after all.

It had been such a sweet victory when Loki had arrived on Asgard alone after she'd already seized control of the realm. Her undead army patrolled the streets, Fenrir at her side. The only thing better would be to have Thor, but he has yet to arrive on Asgard, to challenge her and rescue his dear brother.

She hopes he'll find a broken man in place of the usually mischievous trickster. Her pet, loyal to her and her alone.

The pup is currently kneeling on the hard marble floor, waiting for her. He can do nothing but wait for her orders, bound and degraded as he is. She smiles to herself as she approaches him, an extra wide smirk for the buttplug tail she'd so lovingly inserted into him a few hours ago. He seems to be squirming, but still in place as per her orders.

Hela leans over once she's next to Loki and runs a hand through his long hair, in a way she might do if she was petting Fenrir.

"And how is my darling pet today?" she speaks with a deceptively bright tone. Hela is in a particularly affectionate mood for now, which means her little pup will likely be fucked instead of beaten. Whether or not he'll be given pleasure of his own depends, as always, on his performance; whether or not he deserves an orgasm.

Every time she touches him at the start of a session, he jumps. He never hears her coming, never learns to expect her; he suspects she likes the way he reacts, and he always does react, despite his best attempts. Her voice is sweet, cultured, and holds nothing of the cruelty he knows she’s capable of.

And, as always, he bares his teeth at her in a vague approximation of where he thinks she is. He doesn’t bite, though, he’s learned that lesson, and he’s not stupid enough to try insulting her, not when she holds his life in her hands. Without his really realizing it, though, he’s tilting into the touch, craving that gentle affection despite knowing the source of it.

She chuckles when he bares his teeth, her fingers curling in his hair tightly. She tugs his head back, but doesn't let that blindfold budge. Keeping him in the dark is far more entertaining, and believe her, she's considered permanently blinding him on more than one occasion. The only thing holding her back is the thought of how those pretty eyes would go to waste, how they look when she does allow him to see, pleading with her in such a lovely way.

"Good, I see," she comments, her hand leaving his hair to run slowly down his back. She toys with the end of the dildo shoved securely in his ass, pushing it harder against Loki's prostate. "Do you like this? I think it suits you well."

Hela's other hand wanders downward, curling around Loki's erection. His body has little choice but to react the way she wishes, a fact the goddess takes full advantage of whenever she pleases.

Loki is bound partly by the straps that wrap around his body, but mostly holds himself in place—a humiliation she forced on him long ago. It’s worse, after all, that he’s allowing this, rather than being forced to do nothing but endure. This is particularly true as his head falls back, his moan sounding loud and humiliatingly wanton as he jerks in place, hips rocking back into the toy and then forward into her touch.

He can’t say no, not when his body betrays him like this, but he refuses to give her the satisfaction of his saying yes.

Hela has lessened the bindings ever since she managed to force Loki to remain where she wants him to be. Of course, she has no compunction against tying him up and riding him if she so desires. Sometimes that's easier than forcing him to will his hands from moving, touching her or himself.

For now she enjoys the way he moves between the toy and her hand, soaks in his moan and works to draw more out of him.

Eventually, however, Hela stops what she's doing, pulling her hands away and instead kicking Loki onto his side and then rolling him onto his back with her booted foot.

"I'm going to fuck you, pup. I could use the release."

That doesn't necessarily mean he'll have release. It depends on how she feels afterward.

He hits the floor with a startled exhalation, shoved unceremoniously onto his back. It moves the plug inside him, and he jerks in place, cheeks dark with humiliation as he feels his erection stand tall from his body.

Still, he won’t speak. Won’t beg, despite the way his muscles tremble with the strain of keeping himself still. She’s no queen of Asgard; he won’t submit. (Every time, he thinks that. Every time, she’s proven him wrong.)

"Oh, pup. Look at you," she taunts, knowing he can't see due to the blindfold. Soon after, Hela vanishes her clothing so she can stand before him naked. One bare foot moves between his thighs, and she presses down lightly on his erection.

"So aroused, so ready for me."

It warms her to the core to see it. He can keep quiet all he likes, but in the end, he'll moan for her. He'll beg for her. Smirking, she presses down with more pressure on his cock.

[Somewhere in the prisons of Asgard, in a cell long-inhabited, briefly escaped from, and recently enough returned to, Lorelei sits and sulks and concocts plans she doubts will ever come to fruition. Her quick brush with freedom was Loki's doing, if somewhat inadvertently, but Loki thinks only of himself (always) and she'd been of more use to him as a trap for the oh-so-esteemed Lady Sif than as a more long-term distraction on Midgard. Not surprising, really.

What was surprising to her was the fact that she remained imprisoned even after said lady-warrior's banishment from Asgard. It was (is) obvious to Lorelei that Sif had been first trapped and then banished because she was growing too wary of Loki's scheme and disguise, his playing at being Odin -- and of course she figured it out herself as well, but it wasn't a danger. She and Loki were never allies, but she posed no threat to him. But Sif was cast out and still Odin-Loki kept her in her cell, silent and sullen and feeling more and more a wreck by the day. (She's always been a vain creature, has Lorelei. Prison doesn't suit her for this and many other reasons.) Perhaps it was so he maintained the illusion to the people of Asgard, but Lorelei cared not. Cares.

And then the very ground shakes and Hela appears and Lorelei feels a glimmer of hope once more.

She expects nothing, when she's brought out of the dungeons. She's allowed to tidy herself, beautify herself; she's given free reign of the dead former queen's wardrobe (not that sanctimonious Frigga has many things that appeal to her as they stand, but with a bit of magic and modification she makes of the fine fabrics a gown fit for the goddess-aspirant she is) and given time to return luster and shine to her unfortunately-neglected hair. She knows not why, but she's certain Hela has something to do with it.

Her muzzle is not yet removed.

When she comes before the new queen, she's as beautiful as ever. It's easy to see in her the woman who's commanded armies, seduced even the most faithful of men away from their lovers, brought countless misguided souls to their knees. Her shoulders are drawn back proudly, her skin glows, the gown she fashioned floats around her like art. She practically radiates magic. Yet there's something tawdry and misused about her now, too. The metal about her throat sees to that. The woman who's used so many is still without her greatest weapon.

All that stands, as yet, is a shadow of power and glory, beauty and sex. She's aware of how vulnerable she is, but she doesn't want to let it show.]